#Plz god read these fics

[hikarihenkoyo]

Humanity means wearing your mistakes on your skin, means your body becomes a map, leylines connecting one trauma to the next and to the next, like stars in a constellation of pain. Immortals are supposed to be immune to that visceral sort of memory. 

“...why did that scar?”

“It was the greatest betrayal of my life; would you expect it to just fade away?”

- @etherati. Taproot.

[howdoyousleep3]

Rating: Explicit (E) Word Count: 4.7K Notable Tags: Dom/Sub AU, Heavy Power Imbalance, Non-Con (from characters other than Steve and in the past, no major detail), Daddy Kink, Age Difference, Sex Trafficking, Human Trafficking, Submissive Auction, Angst With a Happy Ending, Depressive Thoughts, Depressed Bucky Barnes, Slight Stockholm Syndrome, Crying, Subspace, Blowjob, Face Fucking, Orgasm Denial, Cock Cage, Size Kink, Size Difference A/N: This was originally supposed to be published in the last Kinktober I participated in under my Age Difference day. I've only read one story that was in the Dom/Sub AU and I was so taken with it, it's all I thought about as I wrote this. It's a universe where, kind of like Omegaverse, everyone has a designation of Dominant or Submissive. I didn't dive into it too heavily, but I left it totally up for my interpretation so...don't mind me lol. Compared to what I usually write, this one is kind of twisted and dark. Please read the tags and don't continue reading if it makes you uncomfy. ❤️

Read here on Ao3.

The lights in this room are much more dim than the ones in the showcase room they’ve just performed in. He feels the line of his shoulders relax at the sight, be it merely a smidgen, heart still hammering against his rib cage. His limbs continue to tremble unpleasantly, his head pounding, his hole wet and aching to the point of pain. 

He is used to this happening when he’s used without completion, climax other than his own being robbed from him, when he isn’t used for his purpose. He does as they’ve trained him though— he ignores his tender emotions and his body’s biological signs of unfulfilled submission. 

Bucky barely has half the mind to take in his surroundings, to lift his chin and glance around the room he’s quickly being shuffled into. It almost looks like a study, someone’s personal office or library. It’s deceivingly cozy with its maroon walls and moody lighting, a fireplace lit and in use on one end of the room, bookshelves lining the opposite wall. He’s slow to take in the bed in the center of the room, one that seems entirely out of place yet perfect in this setting, large and cloud-like and luxurious. 

The exhaustive ache that Bucky feels deep down to the center of his being yearns to curl up in the center of that bed like a kitten, to not be roused for hours on end. Instead he’s ordered to his knees on the rug next to it, the command settling unpleasantly on the nape of his neck like they always do. 

He looks down at himself, his nude and flushed form, eyes locking onto his hands bound and curled together in his lap, and he wonders how this is where he ended up in life. 

“Listen to me,” the handler tells him, voice unharsh yet still grating, the command one he’s forced to listen to. Bucky’s never enjoyed his designation, has rarely ever been comfortable being a Sub, but these moments are the ones he hates the most. He despises not having a choice, has a special kind of hatred for being commanded against his will, his body listening before his mind can fight against it. But he’s quick to respond, quick to mumble, “Yes, Sir,” because that’s what they’ve spent the last three months training Bucky to do. 

“You no longer belong to us,” the Dominant handler states without emotion, and even given the circumstances, relief kicks up into Bucky’s chest. “Your personal possessions are in this bag, your Dom will handle everything else once your bond is initiated. If it is initiated.” Bucky flinches. “You understand the reputation we hold here and the standards we’ve instilled in you, yes?” 

Bucky bites out another, “Yes, Sir,” before the handler is done moving purposefully around the room, coming to stand in front of Bucky. He doesn’t raise his head, just as he’s been taught.

“Good. I advise you to keep those in mind once you leave this place. You haven’t been the easiest Sub to deal with, James. I’d hate for your Dom to send you back here because you did not meet expectations. He won you fair and square with the highest bid; don’t make him regret that.” 

The severity of the situation Bucky’s been put in, the past few months, hits him in the solar plexus when he hears these words. He isn’t sure why his brain decides to catch up in this moment, why he decides to feel the weight of the past weeks here at the feet of his handler in the very last moment they’ll see each other, but he feels his chest constrict painfully. His hole aches in waves, mouth watering in preparation for what it thinks is coming, desperate, and Bucky bites back his whimper when he feels his dick wish to fill out. 

He never gets what he wants, what he needs, is always left feeling unfulfilled and purposeless. They’ve had to increase his dosage of meds they give him each day as a result of how affected he has become from touch after touch leaving him emptier and emptier. A Sub shouldn’t live like this yet here he is, having been picked up off the streets and trained to be the best of the best on such evil touches. 

He’s going to be so fucked up because of this place. 

Having been put on display in every possible way in the performance room during his shining moment, he wonders if this is the last time he’ll feel so used and hollow. Will his new Dom continue to leave him feeling so empty? Will he make Bucky do things he doesn’t want to do, use him against his will, take advantage of him and his designation? He feels so low in this moment he can’t see anything but that happening, of being owned and living this life of misery. Surely Bucky won’t survive. 

His handler doesn’t even say goodbye, doesn’t acknowledge Bucky as he leaves, and Bucky hates how much that hurts. He’s once again betrayed by his biological needs, betrayed by the intrinsic need to please and to obey, and even given the piss poor treatment they’ve put him through here, Bucky wishes his handler would leave him with more positive words, with the praise he so desperately craves. 

When he hears the door close behind the Dom, he can’t help the whimper that bubbles up and out of his mouth. 

His eyes don’t leave the floor because no one has told him he can raise his head, and even though he no longer belongs to this establishment, he can’t will his inner submissive to look up. Instead, his eyes lock onto the cage around his dick. He despises this thing. Before he was lured in with promises of a warm meal and an even warmer bed he had only heard of cock cages being utilized in either the most severe of relationships or for fun, no in between. He had never worn one until his training. 

He hates it, has tried taking it off on his own multiple times before his harshest of training had set in. He hasn’t come once during his time here, can barely remember what his own climax feels like. 

“Your pleasure no longer belongs to you, James. Your orgasms are not your own; they belong to your Dom.”

It’s ironic yet devastating to Bucky that all of this training, all of this pain, was pointless. Bucky could be a good Sub for someone, he knows it. He could give the right someone all of the things his training had brought out without the misery he’s gone through for these people. He could give his mind, body, and soul easily over to the right person. This line of thinking shifts into the only thing that brought him comfort each night; the only thing that helped him get the little sleep that he did— 

His Daddy. 

Well, hopefully his Daddy. 

If he’s the perfect man for Bucky, he’ll be his Daddy. 

And his knight in shining armor, this perfect Dom, his Daddy, would come one day to take him away from this hell. That’s what he dreamt about each night, that his Dom, strong enough for the both of them, big enough to easily cradle Bucky’s not entirely petite form close to his chest, would whisk him away from this place and give him everything he could ever need. His Dom that can teach him how to cook his favorite meals for him, his Dom that is patient, his Dom that is proud of Bucky. Every night when he needed comfort to sleep, this man would be the comfort Bucky needed to finally rest. 

Bucky wonders what his Dom is going to be like, what he’s going to look like, but most of all Bucky wonders if he is going to like Bucky. Surely he is attracted to Bucky if he got into a bidding war with someone else for Bucky, if he paid damn near a million dollars for Bucky’s bond, for his life. There is a sliver of hope that the highest bidder’s intentions are pure.

Bucky is so exhausted, right down to the bone, that he doesn’t even startle when he hears the door to the room open once more. He doesn’t lift his head, as he’s been taught, but this time he does it because of the onslaught of nerves that wrack his body. This is it, this is his new Dom, the one he’ll have for life, the one whose bond will be initiated tonight. With one last unmated deep breath, Bucky sends a wish out into the universe for his Dom to be kind, for him to show Bucky the love he’s never been given in life, to love Bucky. 

The sound of steady footsteps reach his ears at almost the same moment a sense of calm washes over Bucky’s being. It hits him in waves, drips down his spine like warm honey, a sensation so pleasurable his chest shakes with his caged sob. His nostrils fill with the scents of cinnamon and vanilla and a bonfire deep in the forest. His eyes well up with tears as he continues to look down at his hands, mind racing in disbelief at his body’s immediate reaction to his new Dom, a reaction he’s not experienced before.

Hope begins to seep into Bucky’s limbs as a pair of sleek, black boots come into view.

“James?”

Oh. 

He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until his next exhale comes out as a choked sob. Upon hearing that voice the hope in his body bursts, shatters, into something more fierce, something that has him responding with a quiet and thoughtless— 

“Daddy?” 

He doesn’t look up, doesn’t let his eyes leave the floor, those expensive boots. He feels his hands tremble in his lap, can almost hear them do so. He isn’t given enough time to panic about addressing his new Dom by a title that wasn’t approved by him, wasn’t given permission to use, because his Dom is responding confidently. 

“Look at me, please.”

Bucky’s eyelids flutter upon hearing the gentle command in such a soothing, rich voice, and he takes a deep and shaky breath before listening like a good boy…

And immediately begins sobbing in full.

It’s the faceless man from Bucky’s dreams, he’s sure of it. He has kind ocean eyes, an otherworldly physical presence. There’s experience etched into every part of his being, from his graying hair to the wrinkles around his eyes to the calmness that sweeps off of him in waves. He smiles down at Bucky and it makes him feel like he’s the most precious creature on the planet. 

“Oh, my angel…”

This is the man that is going to save his life.

This is his Daddy. 

With his eyesight now blurry because of his tears, he doesn’t see the hand coming down before it cups his chin. There’s a strength in this grip that Bucky knows will soothe him, hold him, love him for the rest of his life. A thumb swipes at his tears, wiping them from his cheek. He can’t remember the last time he felt such comfort from another human being. Even before he was forced into this facility, through all his sexual encounters, gentleness and softness were not things he experienced. He’s almost forgotten what it’s like, to feel a reassuring touch. 

“James,” his Daddy reverently murmurs, stroking his thumb over Bucky’s trembling bottom lip. “Why are you crying, sweetheart?” 

He swallows thickly, his eyes roving over his Daddy’s face, taking a few seconds to selfishly drink the older man in. His body reacts to its Dom’s presence like it knows its Daddy is finally here, its biological needs taking over all other needs, roaring to life within him. Bucky’s eyes fight to cross when he takes in the size of his Dom’s denim-clad thighs, how he fills out his cozy sweater. His Daddy’s so big. He wiggles his hips where he sits, chin in his Daddy’s big hand. 

“I’ve just…I’ve…I’ve been waiting for you for so long,” is what Bucky ends up saying quietly, sniffling, and his Dom’s smile is slow and sweet, like he enjoys Bucky’s answer. 

“I’ve been waiting for you forever, James.” 

Those words feel like pure sunlight.

But Bucky shakes his head without thought, stops himself abruptly after two shakes. He’s reminded then of his handler’s words, that he was a difficult Sub. He can’t take the risk of being anything but the best Sub. He’s already afraid to lose his Daddy; he has to be good. 

But his Dom has caught his defiance. 

“What is it, James?” 

“Nothing, Sir.” 

His Dom doesn’t miss a beat. 

“No, sweetheart— no lies, no holding back, no unspoken feelings. I always want to know what you are thinking, what your feelings are. So tell me, James. What is it?” 

Christ. Bucky can’t help but sniffle again, unable to get his tears under control. His Dom is perfect. 

“B-Bucky,” he mumbles. “I go by Bucky. I don’t…I don’t like James.” 

His Dom’s smile is warm, his fingers that squeeze around Bucky’s chin reassuring. He repeats Bucky’s name, practicing it a few times, each one sending Bucky melting further into his head and surely into the floor. 

“Of course, sweetheart— Bucky. My name is Steve,” he tells him, and Bucky’s insides warm with more of that sunlight Steve is bringing into his life. 

Steve. 

A strong name for a strong man, a name that belongs to a man that gently commands attention. It’s the perfect name, or so Bucky thinks.

“But you can call me Daddy, Bucky.’

That’s the best name, the perfect name. 

Hands still tied together in his lap, dick still in its cage, Bucky turns his head and nuzzles his cheek into his new Daddy’s palm, the warmth and sheer size of it making him lightheaded. It takes him a moment to recognize that this is the beginnings of him going under, of finding that sweet space within. He’d gotten so used to being forced there, his designation being used against him to put him under, that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be sent there willingly. 

His whimpers seem endless even to his own ears. 

“Look at that,” Steve marvels from his place above Bucky, voice the most soothing of tones, a sensation in and of itself. He allows Bucky to nuzzle his cheek further into his palm, even as Bucky gives into the urge and desire to press kisses to his fingers. Such a forgiving Dom.

“I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you, that you’d be everything I’ve dreamt of having all to myself.”

Bucky sobs. The emotions that one sentence brings him is enough to beg Steve to not go any further. But Bucky is selfish, he is admittedly greedy. He’s been given nothing while being here, before this. He has continuously poured from a deserted and infinitely empty cup and has been given nothing when his heart, his mind, his body demands it, needs it, in order to survive. 

“Your tears,” Steve murmurs, interjecting his own shared line of thinking. “Are they good or bad, Bucky? Please tell me.” 

A request yet a command. A tender one. One Bucky must answer, is finally willing to answer. “Both,” is what he decides to admit. 

“Both?” 

He nods his head within Steve’s grip. “Yes, Daddy. Bad because…because I am sad for my past self. That I was never given a chance to be good and then said chance was forcefully taken away from me.” Before Steve can speak to those words, Bucky quickly continues. “But good because you’re here…you’re finally here. And I…I get to be so g-good for you.” 

Steve’s exhale is heavy, laced with a sound of pleasure that settles over Bucky’s own shoulders and neck. Bucky’s dick strains against its cage, his mind slipping from himself further. 

Steve sticks his thick thumb between Bucky’s lips and Bucky nearly sobs again, hiccuping around where he purses his mouth.

“You are extraordinary,” Steve tells him and Bucky truly believes it given his reverent tone. “The moment you stepped on stage, I knew it. I’ve been coming here for years. Did they tell you that? Years, Bucky.  I’m their hardest client to please, the one they couldn’t wait to be rid of. Money is of no importance, my preferences vague. Kept telling them I’d know when to bid, when the right Sub would be coming home with me.”  

Bucky sucks on Steve’s thumb harder, grateful to have something in his mouth as his Dom showers him with praise. 

“They even told me they’d go out of their way to find someone that fit what I was looking for, that we could forgo an auction altogether. I told them no.”

His Daddy is so powerful. 

Bucky slips further into his head. 

“Never once did I question myself; I knew you were out there. And when you stepped onto that stage with those legs and that mouth and those eyes…oh, kitten— you were made for me.” 

Bucky sways forward, head dizzy with need and relief curling together, tightly wound. Steve wraps his other fingers around Bucky’s chin, holding him steady. 

“And you’re going to be the sweetest, most affectionate boy for me, aren’t you? This is everything we’ve both been waiting for, isn’t it?”

Bucky nods his head frantically, laps at Steve’s thumb and sucks it into the back of his mouth. 

“You’re going to bring us so much joy through your submission, aren’t you? You’re going to bring us the purpose we’ve been craving. Together.” 

Bucky doesn’t know how to communicate that his feelings are terribly overwhelming, that he doesn’t know what to do with himself because of it. The force of his emotions leave his body trembling where he kneels. If Steve’s thumb weren’t in his mouth his teeth would surely be clacking against one another with the force of his tremors. His head spins in less of the dizzy way he’s been experiencing these past weeks and more in a euphoric way he’s always dreamt it could. 

His body already trusts its Daddy, leaning towards him and into his touch, loosening up further and further. The line in his shoulders softens, the tension in his thighs diminishes. Even with Steve’s thumb in his mouth, the tightness no longer residing in his jaw is obvious. 

Even as Bucky spent his nights dreaming of this moment, weeping for this moment, he never imagined it could be this perfect. 

But then Steve is reaching for his belt buckle with his other hand, the button on his black dress pants, and Bucky wonders if he is in fact dreaming. 

“Let Daddy give you something else to suck on, sugar. You look like you need it,” Steve purrs, reaching into his now open dress pants and pulling out his cock. Weeping nearly as much as Bucky has been, Steve’s cock is impossibly thick and deliciously heavy. It has Bucky’s hips wiggling once more, his vision going blurry as he’s presented with his Daddy’s cock for the very first time. He can’t stop the onslaught of sniffles and weepy eyes as he reminds himself once more that he’s so goddamn lucky Steve waited for him. 

He opens his mouth as soon as that cock is above him, letting Steve’s thumb pop from between his lips, whining as he does so. He can smell Steve from here, his warm scent with an added muskiness to it that has Bucky unabashedly groaning, tongue out. 

And then Steve pulls his balls out too, and Bucky nearly asks to be pinched. 

“Daddy…” 

“Gimme a kiss, sweetheart. Let Daddy feel that precious mouth.”

The moment the fat head of Steve’s cock lands on his tongue, Bucky feels the closest thing to submissive bliss he’s ever felt. It’s euphoric. The taste of him, this Dom, his Daddy, blooms on his tongue, bursts through his being. The taste of his excitement, his precome, forces another ragged noise from Bucky as he sucks Steve further into his mouth, savoring every inch of him. Steve’s thunderous and drawn out groan feels like a climax to Bucky.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve exclaims through an exhale, Bucky barely tethered to the earth. “That’s it. Show Daddy how much you’ve missed him, show him how perfect you are.”

In the three months he’s been here, servicing a Dom has not once felt like this. In his time before this, his time on the streets and beyond, he’s never felt solid within his submissiveness. The stretch of his jaw, the hot slide of velvet wrapped steel on his tongue and down his throat, the feel of Steve’s large fingers sliding through his hair; it all brings him a sense of purpose he’s failed to receive all these years. 

And he can’t help but sob around his mouthful. 

“I knew it, I…fuck, I knew you were made for me, Bucky” Steve tells him, voice full of awe and dripping with lust. “I can’t wait to see how far you drop, how far I can push you. You’re gonna let Daddy push you, aren’t you? You’re gonna let him learn all about you?” 

Bucky confirms Steve’s suspicions with another loud, garbled noise around his cock, one of obvious enthusiasm. He’s dropping hard now, wants to tell his Daddy he’s barely holding on, but then Steve’s hands are moving, holding Bucky’s head in place as he pulls his hips back. 

Using Bucky. 

What little headspace Bucky has left reserved for himself is used to marvel at how easily, how purposefully, it was for Steve to step into this role as his Daddy. 

He’d give Steve the world. 

He’ll give Steve whatever he wants, whenever he wants it, all the time. 

This is his life’s purpose now, being used for his Daddy’s pleasure, serving his Daddy. Being owned by his Daddy.

He’s left with no choice but to cry. 

Bucky opens up his throat as his eyes begin to close, leaning forward on his knees, letting Steve fuck his mouth. With an easy and sharp noise, Bucky immediately knows that Steve wants his eyes open and on him. He does just that, looking up at Steve as he sticks his tongue out obediently, moaning at the fullness of his mouth. 

“That’s it, that’s a good boy,” Steve murmurs, voice melting down Bucky’s spine as Steve’s fingers dig into his hair. “You’re so good, you’re already so good for your Daddy. Look at you, look how much you love sucking on your Daddy’s cock. You perfect baby Sub.”

Bucky’s head grows fuzzier, his dick aching, his core aching. He slurps around Steve’s cock but it does nothing to slow the trail of spit dripping down his chin and sliding towards his neck. Steve is a dream, an absolute dream. Bucky needs a communicator, needs someone who will listen and who will talk to him, especially when it’s filthy. Bucky wants to be talked dirty to, wants to experience that side of sex, especially when it’s praise. Especially when it’s from Steve. 

Without warning, Steve kicks his hips forward, a noise akin to a growl falling from his lips, his fingers tightening in Bucky’s hair. It’s a slip of his obvious control, his inner Dom breaking through, impatient. Bucky meets him full force with his own submission, moaning around his Daddy’s cock, showing him he can take it. 

“Yeah, you know what that is, don’t you? Your Sub knows a Dom when he feels one, doesn’t he?” 

Bucky’s whine is damn near desperate. 

“You know how hard it is for your Dom not to take you right here on this fucking floor, sweetheart? Makes me feel feral, the way I want to make you mine. Mhmm, your Daddy doesn’t want that though. Your Daddy wants to take you home, take you away from this place forever. He wants to treat you right.” 

Bucky swallows around his mouthful.

He can feel Steve’s groan all the way down here, down in his toes.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, sweetheart,” Steve tells him, his hands holding onto both sides of his face. He pulls his cock out of Bucky’s mouth just enough to where Bucky can only suckle on the tip of it given the restraint Steve has put him in. The connection of their eyes, the way Steve looks down at him, strikes a chord deep, deep within Bucky. 

He whimpers as he suckles on the big, swollen head of his Daddy’s cock as he listens. 

“I’m going to give you what you want. I’m going to give you my come, fill your pretty belly with it. I have a hunch that’s going to send you right under, which is perfect. You’re so perfect, angel.”

Bucky whimpers again. 

“And then Daddy’s going to take you home. And when we get home, I’m going to give you a bath and play with your little body until you’re nice and loose and ready to take my big cock.” 

Bucky whimpers again. 

“And then I’m going to fuck your little hole until it sends you right back under, until you come all over my cock, until our bond snaps into place and we finally and officially belong to one another.” 

Oh. 

Bucky sniffles as he lets Steve use his mouth, tears trailing down his cheeks and mixing with the spit smeared on his chin. He wasn’t sure if the person who bought him would want to bond so quickly, if they’d want to bond at all. It’s been implied to him since he got here that he was too difficult of a Sub to become bonded. To hear that Steve wants to take him away from this dreadful place, to their home, in order to bond with him is a dream come true. 

It’s what begins to send him under. 

“That’s it, kitten,” Steve pants, fucking himself impossibly deep into Bucky’s mouth. “That’s it, baby. Oh, I can almost feel you slipping from me. Have you stolen my heart already? Have you tempted my bond already, Bucky?” 

Bucky’s vision begins to grow fuzzy around the edges, his mind pulling in on itself, hypnotized by the drag of Steve’s cock in and out of his mouth. In and out, in and out, in and out. Blessedly not rough, but intense and all-consuming. His jaw nearly aches at the stretch of Steve’s girth and it’s— 

It’s bliss. 

Daddy’s hands in his hair, Daddy’s cock in his mouth, Daddy’s praise in his ear, Daddy’s eyes on his face, Daddy’s come on his tongue. 

“Daddy.” 

“You’re mine now, Bucky. No one is ever going to hurt you, never again. I’ll give you everything you could ever want as a Sub and as a boy. You’ll never wish for anything now that I’m your Daddy,” Steve tells him as he shoots off down Bucky’s throat, hands in Bucky’s hair, petting him as he pumps his hips.

His Daddy’s voice is steady and strong, full of promise and love. And as he kneels there at his Daddy’s feet with Steve’s warm come settling into his belly, his Daddy’s cock still in his slack mouth, Bucky finally, finally lets himself sink.

[kinos-fortress-2]

what does one unfinished fic from like 2022 of a very rareshipp does a to a mf

and also a trashy playlist that got me in my own feelings...

[lover-of-skellies]

You ever have the urge to smooch a cryptid

[randomnameless]

I appreciate that at least they stayed consistent with the Sword of the Creator being Crest of Flames-exclusive and, as such, Byleth can no longer use it post-CF and is shown using a normal sword instead in their solo and S-Supported Jeritza ending pictures; makes it all the more baffling that they're still alive despite their heart being destroyed and that the Sothis S-Support exists in that route, but i'll give them credit where it's due for keeping the SOTC's lore consistent.

Post Tru Piss, there's no Crest Stone left for the SoC!

So I'd say it's not that it's CoF exclusice, but rather something like without a crest stone, a relic, even the SoC, doesn't "work" anymore.

Adding insult to the injury though, Post!Tru Piss Billy uses Rhea's sword, aka, a Holy Weapon that could be used by everyone (human and nabatean!) and even heal non-crested people : Billy uses at the end of the "we will make a world for humans!" route a sword that conveyed coexistence between humans and nabateans...

Sothis' S-support in this route really felt odd, because she acknowledges Rhea at least, but has no words for her passing when Rhea died crying for her.

Some people tried to theorise that this Sothis isn't the one Rhea remembers so she wouldn't have feelings about her... but idk, it still feels dead wrong, especially since Sothis remembered feelings of joy and sadness in Zanado, and ultimately remembers how Rhea is a her kid thanks to the lullaby (and in SS when she "talks" to her).

If Sothis was a better written character and not accidently written to be the most toxic parent in the FE series, I'd maybe write something about her feeling so bad that, again, she was used to slaughter one of her own children (Nemesis first in Zanado, and now Billy in Tailtean) but as canon!Sothis is, I'm not really motivated to do something like this.

[theclaravoyant]

I love aziraphale finding stuff out through snooping but I also love the idea of aziraphale in heaven helping plan the second coming etc , of course he gets to speak to jesus and of course crowley somehow comes up.

you know crowley? aziraphale asks. he just misses then he misses them so freaking much that anything will do , the slightest tidbit of an anecdote but instead he gets more than he bargained for from a time when crowley and the fall was much more raw, from someone who is willing to see them in a way few others do

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

Life Eternal (Chapter 3)

This is an HOTD fanfic based off *another* fanfic, Second Sons by @avengingangelfanfic (I highly recommend reading their amazing fic first! )

Read the beginning of Life Eternal here : Prologue , Chapter 1 , Chapter 2

Rating: M (graphic depictions of violence, mentions of depression, death, depictions of war)

Word Count: 3600

Summary: Set 44 years after the initial events of Second Sons, Daemon Targaryen, son of Aemond and Lyanna, struggles to find his way due to his parents' fame. Who will he go to in order to solve this problem?

Disclaimer: The events in this fic are NOT canon to the canon events of AvengingAngel's story! It was just an idea bouncing around and I asked for permission, which was graciously given (thank youuuu), to put it in words. Gif credits for any gifs used will be in the images themselves. With that in mind, thank you for reading.

[18 YEARS AGO]

The war had not been very long, only about half a year, but the losses were devastating.

Most of it had been fending off raider parties and executing spies while amassing the necessary soldiers to match the Dothraki army’s numbers.  Khal Drogo’s advisors had estimated it would take the new King on the Iron Throne over a year to persuade his subjects to form a force as formidable as he had, and so victory had all but been guaranteed to him.  It had only taken the King Jacaerys a little over a month to gather a force of 400,000 to match Drogo’s 450,000.  

A witch who had fled to King Jacaery’s side, her two children in tow, had provided a way for the Northern armies of Lord Cregan Stark to arrive in time: a magic portal that they would arrive with, but not return (whatever remained of them after would have to go back home on foot).  Khal Drogo had his advisors executed.  

King Jacaerys had appealed to the people not only as their ruler, but as a man.  “I want what any man and woman in my kingdom would: to avenge my mother and stepfather, to protect my children and to live free of the cruel yoke of slavery.”  It had stirred the people, to know that their King considered slavery a threat to even himself, having dragons and all.  Many lamented they had to stay where they were, unable to do any “real fighting”.

“No.” King Jacaerys had said firmly.  “We need you just as much as the most fearsome berserker on the battlefield.  We need our fields tended, our animals cared for.  We need a home to come back to.” 

He had repeated the same words he spoke in the giant, majestic Dragonpit of King’s Landing in every village he and Baela flew to.  Eschewing the large cities where the great houses resided (sending family members on dragonback to them instead), they had descended upon the surrounding farming villages and tiny trading hamlets.  Many a tavern owner had been honored to host them, stories of such things sure to be passed down their families in the years to come, how they had once fed Jacaerys the Defender and Brave Baela a pint of ale with a meat pie.

To deal with this threat to his kingdom, Jacaerys favored a more direct type of approach: take out the leader in an attempt to splinter his army.  Many failed assassinations followed, the bloodriders’ numbers dwindling down to a mere four, but Khal Drogo himself evaded the Stranger and arrived on Westeros.  Swimming giants made landfall first, and the first fight of the war began, occupying the dragonriders in a section of land away from where Khal Drogo then flooded the shores with his screamers and elephants for a couple of months. 

Khal Drogo had planned a sort of pincer attack, but Prince Aemond had relayed this information to the King in time via his own planted spies.  Half of the enemy forces had been waiting in Essos to set sail so they might arrive a few days after a planned battle with all of the Dothraki army together, to replenish the ones who were the first wave arriving on Westeros, in an effort to exhaust King Jacaery’s assembled army with a sustained attack.  

Princess Rhaenys, The Queen Who Never Was, fell first.  She had been tasked with leading the initial assault on the elephant hordes in the first enemy arrival on Westerosi lands and managed to take out most of the scorpions and catapults before being blindsided by a flying wizard’s blast.  King Jacaerys and Queen Baela had still been occupied in dealing with the giants a ways away. 

Prince Aegon the elder and Crown Prince Aemon had been with Rhaenys.  

They finished the job she had started, Aegon’s twins following their lead on their own dragons, bathing what remained of the elephant army in a blinding wall of fire.  The wizard who had killed Rhaenys had attempted to blast Jahaerys as well, only to be stopped by Aegon the Elder’s sword flying through the air and impaling itself through his throat.   Prince Aegon had launched it like a javelin using momentum from his dragon Sunfyre, stopping the assailant midair and sending him careening to the ground.  A long ribbon of blood had escaped from the body as it fell. Prince Daeron’s dragon, Tessarion, had just arrived and snatched another wizard who had sprung into the air behind Aegon, a blast already sizzling in his hand and aimed at him. Prince Aemon’s dragon had latched onto the unfortunate man at the same time, the two dragons ripping him apart with ease, splattering their riders with the entrails and blood.  The group had then allowed themselves a small moment of joy, cheering and laughing with relief at Aegon II’s close brush with death. 

Oversees, Prince Aemond and Princess Lyanna rained hellfire upon the remaining forces that were waiting to set sail, focusing on taking out the remaining giants and elephants. Queen Rhaenyra’s four children by Daemon (Aegon The Younger, Viserys, Visenya and Aemma) gladly helped with their own dragons.  Prince Lucerys and Princess Rhaena provided air support to the thousands of slaves that defected to the assisting forces of Braavos and Pentos. Prince Joffrey and Prince Valerion ambushed the last of the enemy soldiers attempting to flee.  It was a quick battle, but losses still came.  

Gendry, Princess Lyanna’s much loved sworn shield, died on the ground along with hundreds of foot soldiers.  Prince Lucerys lost a leg, but kept his life. Lord Rickon Tully fell, along with both Cargyll brothers.  It was not a happy trip back to Westeros to rejoin the rest of King Jacaery’s army.  

Back in Westeros, the dragonriders could only do so much after the first battle without risking killing their own people also.  Defending from the ground was also not an area that Khal Drogo expected much of a fight in but a fight is what he got as he tried to converge his massive horde into one area.  Prince Doran of Dorne and Lord Royce Baratheon of Storm’s End commanded the ground forces. Men and women numbering in the hundreds of thousands spread out over the Crownlands to fight for their King and defend their homes.  The efforts of Rhaenys were not in vain, having no catapults or spear launchers of any sort to use themselves, Drogo’s land army struggled mightily.  

The soldiers of King Jacaerys' took every opportunity they could to weaken Drogo's forces. Flaming walls of bagged up livestock feces were used to suffocate sleeping enemy camps.  Enemy battalions making their way to the location of battle through the Kingswood were ambushed constantly.

Over and over, the Dothraki were baited and chipped away at, until the day of the final battle.  

Lord Corlys handled the enemy on the ocean, making short work of Drogo’s shoddy fleet of mercenaries and inexperienced Dothraki sailors.  They had thought to keep their supplies off land in order to better protect them, but House Velaryon decimated them. There had been moment where the Velaryon fleet seemed to have reached a wall of ships, but soon all hope disappeared for the opposing side: on the horizon, roaring and spewing huge plumes of flames, were Caraxes and Syrax flying towards them.  It was a short fight and Lord Corlys had his revenge for Princess Rhaenys, whose dragon he had seen fall from the sky in the distance those first few days of the war.

Back on land, no terms were offered on either side.  The armies had at last come together in a sea of soldiers across from each other. 

Villagers had long since fled the area, under protection of the rest of the Dragon Blade’s daughters, Lady Alicent Tully leading them away.  

The carnage immediately began on the fields and went on through the night. 

Several times, Royce Baratheon maneuvered his men to corral the Dothraki into spots the dragons could target with ease.  His wife Catelyn would then burn them to a crisp on her dragon Alduin.

Lord Cregan Stark with his men did the same for King Jacaerys on Vermax, Prince Doran’s soldiers repeating the method for Queen Baela on Moondancer.

A smaller faction of Khal Drogo’s army had thought to steal away towards King’s Landing, planning to loot the city and then flee back to Essos. 

Prince Maelor and Princess Helaena, tasked with defending the city,  met them on their dragons.   Scores of Dornish archers pelted the Dothraki continuously with arrows from all over the walls, many smallfolk stationed beside them spraying those who came close with boiling hot oil. After a time, Maelor came back to the Red Keep victorious.  Helaena had flown off to join her husband in the final fight.  

The turning point in the battle came with the arrival of Prince Aemond and the rest of the dragonriders who had gone to Essos to do away with the threat of a second wave. 

It seemed since they saw the cause was lost, Khal Drogo’s army (what was left of it) fought even more fiercely.  They knew they were all to die and were intent on taking as many as they could with them. 

 

 As morning came, the battle slowed and came to a full stop when King Jacaerys rode his dragon into a skirmish, quickly dismounting and slowly raised the head of Khal Drogo himself to what was left of the Dothraki army.  They tried to flee.  Vermax burned them from the ground where he stood by Jacaerys, with Moondancer showering them in fire from above as she flew by, Queen Baela yelling enthusiastically. 

Victory had come, but at a grievous cost.  Catelyn Baratheon had been wounded, seemingly mortally so.  In his desperation, Lord Royce had taken her unconscious body and declared he would take her to better maesters in King’s Landing.  To everyone’s shock, Catelyn’s fearsome beast Alduin let Royce mount him.  He shot to the sky and flew so swiftly many wondered if they had really seen it happen.

Many of Prince Doran’s family had fallen in the battle.  He had only his wife, children and one sister left. Lord Cregan and his lady wife had also fallen in battle.  So many great houses now had new, younger Lords and Ladies stepping up to take charge.

The most heart wrenching loss of all had yet to be widely known, many dismissing the rumors flying around.  In a secluded group of tents, Prince Aegon the Elder was holding the hand of Prince Aemond, who was fading fast.  Aemond held onto the hand of Princess Lyanna beside him, who was too injured to speak but kept her eyes upon Aemond. 

Aemond looked into her eyes as well, speaking to Aegon the entire time.  Aegon took no issue with this, they were saying goodbye after all. Let their final memory be of each other. 

“Our boy, Aegon…our son..please..!”

“You do not even have to say it, brother!” Aegon spoke angrily, tears flowing freely.“Helaena and I will look after Daemon.”

Aemond began to cry as Lyanna suddenly lay stiff.  She was gone from this world.  At least she had heard Aegon promise…hadn’t she?

“Aegon, please..love him-” Aemond gasped.  He was pale and sweaty, bloodfever having long since set in.  His skin was the same ghostly shade as his hair, no color left in his lips.

“Like I said, Helaena and I will care for him.” Aegon promised fiercely, clutching his brother’s limp hand to his chest. He had noticed Lyanna and knew Aemond was not far behind in following her.  His chest felt like it was on fire with the grief but he had to get the words out before it was too late.  “Of course we will!  He is our blood, born of the little brother and good sister who we love with all our hearts, love more than anything.  He will never suffer what you both suffered in childhood!  We will tell him of you both, we will teach him the sword! We will drag him to the library, to your favorite reading spots, to the very place where you asked for Lyanna’s hand!  We will-” Aegon suddenly went silent, looking at what used to be his brother and Lyanna.  They were no more. Aegon screamed and screamed until Heleana came running, and then she too joined in the screaming.  The next tent over, King Jacaerys and Queen Baela were being tended to.  Jacaerys looked to Baela, their faces shattering with the realization upon hearing the horrible wailing.  Circling above the sky, Vhagar and Skydancer roared in agony.  

[18 YEARS AGO, A FEW MONTHS AFTER THE WAR]

“He is here, my Lord.”

“Make ready the chambers.  I can’t see him staying the night, but the gods might gift us another lovely storm and I’d rather not have our new king calling for my head for sending his uncle home in such weather. Inform the cooks to butcher a lamb.”

Lord Royce Baratheon looked at the scene outside his walls.  Prince Aegon the Elder, calming Sunfyre, greeting the guards who came up to him and then making his way towards the castle.  

Royce reflected about the war while he left the balcony and went to the nursery to wait for Aegon…

The entire kingdom was just pulling themselves from the ashes of the Great War against Khal Drogo’s army, rebuilding their homes and healing their wounds.  Catelyn had not been the same since learning of her parents’ deaths. Everyday, she wasted away in their chambers, eating only when Royce fed her himself. The maester had informed them both she would never carry another child again.  Her sisters visited in turns, but rarely so.  Their own families needed them. 

Little Daemon would not stop his sniffling, his older nephew Alphonse his only comfort aside from nurses. 

The children clung to Royce whenever he visited the nursery, crying all the while that they wanted their mother.  Alphonse, in particular, had sensed something was very wrong. 6 years old, Lyanna herself had tasked him with protecting Daemon, a job he had taken very seriously.  Everywhere the little lord-to-be went, he carried his uncle with him.  He had kept asking his father these past months when Lyanna and Aemond would be back for Daemon and could he please go visit King’s Landing with him when they did.  He wanted to keep teaching Daemon how to hold various practice weapons, he was showing promise with the sword and would surely know how to properly swing one by his second nameday.

He asked again today when his uncle’s parents would be back.  It broke his heart, but Royce had to finally be straightforward with his eldest son. 

“Do you remember our old hound?  The one with a gimp leg?”

“Biscuithead! I miss him.” Alphonse had learned of death before the start of the war, thankfully though things that weren’t quite as violent and traumatic.  He looked at his father expectantly, swaying his sleeping uncle in his arms from left to right.  He looked far older than he should, bearing such a responsibility.  Royce hated to be the one to be changing his son’s view of the world for the worse yet again, but it had to be done.  He had shielded him from everything for far too long. 

“Aemond and Lyanna have gone the way of the dog, my boy.  They are dead.  They will not be coming back.  Not ever.”

Alphonse immediately teared up, worry in his whispery voice.  The lad was still afraid of waking Daemon. “...but they are Daemon’s mother and father.  How can a mother and father die?”  Alphonse choked back a sob, trying to be brave but quickly spiraling into distress.  At Royce’s nod, a nearby maid claimed a sleeping Daemon from Alphonse, spiriting him away to a different room in the nursery. “Father…are you going to die?!  Is mother going to die?!”

Royce quickly embraced his crying son.  “No, no, no…I am not dying, my sweet boy, I am not dying.”

“I don’t want you to die!” 

“Hush, now!  Your mother and I have many many years ahead of us.  We are not dying.”

Royce looked to the doors opening, guards announcing Prince Aegon.  

Alphonse had not even noticed, he was still sobbing, face buried in his father’s chest.  Royce met the gaze of a very haggard and tired looking man.  Aegon had come for little Daemon, finally.  He had been told in the ravens he did not even need to ask it, but Aegon would keep his son safe as well, until Catelyn was well enough. 

More than likely until Alphonse felt ready to leave, Royce thought.  He did not see his son betraying a promise made to the Princess of Hearts.

[PRESENT DAY KING’S LANDING]

“Alphonse, come!  Daemon has business he needs to see to without you hovering about.” Royce called, already mounted on his horse, ready to ride away with the rest of the remaining Lords in the keep to the hunting camp.  His two other sons laughed at Alphonse, though not in a bad-natured way (Orys had been chosen to remain at Storm’s End with his dragon and so was not present).

Daemon smirked at Alphonse.  “Go on, then, nephew.  An honorable son always obeys his father.”

Alphonse scoffed as he mounted his own horse.  “Hmph.  As if you obey yours without question?  Have you yet spoken with him?”

Daemon laughed.  Others might take it to mean as a jest against his dead father, but he knew who Alphonse spoke of.  “Never you mind.  Off with you, and do not forget what we talked of a few days past.” he admonished. “You know what will happen if you do not take action.”

“Yes, yes…” Alphonse rode away smiling.

Daemon watched as the large party left the courtyard.  It was the final group to leave to the hunting camp, before Aegon and Heleana made to arrive with the twins to get the celebrations going.  They would leave tomorrow.  A full day with them to himself, Daemon thought.  He made a note to thank the King later, for surely it was his doing that the hosts themselves would be staying here for a whole day.  Lady Alicent Tully was also staying behind.  She had difficulty walking now, at her great age, and preferred to spend her days in the library or being wheeled around the paths in the Godswood.

A great deal had occurred upon his return from Storm’s End.  Daenerys, for one, had been nowhere to be found.  Helaena had informed him she had gone ahead to the site, to “help set up”. 

To avoid my nephew, more like…Daemon had thought.  No matter.  He had persuaded (and slightly threatened) Alphonse to finally seek her hand.  His mother’s dagger had been of some help. 

“Present it to her as your betrothal gift.  Do not make it seem like duty or an obligation.  Tell her the choice is entirely in her hands, and mean it.”  Alphonse had looked a bit panicked at this. “No, do not give me that look. When my father asked for my mother’s hand, he made it clear it was she who would be deciding if they would be wed.  He didn’t even tell her that he was her potential betrothed until that was understood.  No You must marry me! None of that.” His nephew had grumbled at the time, but now he was on his way at least he had seemed more agreeable and Daemon was satisfied with things.

To truly love someone, you had to be at peace with the idea that their happiness might not lie in being with you.  It had been a tough tonic for Alphonse to swallow, but swallow it he did.  Daenerys was the only one who held his heart, and he wanted her to be happy. 

Daemon walked through the keep, steeling himself for what was coming next.   He hadn’t been the easiest child to care for, but his aunt Helaena and uncle Aegon had managed. They both treated him well and reassured him they needed no apologies but he still felt extremely guilty.   Every childhood tantrum had been met with punishment, but also gentle patience. 

“I HATE YOU!!” he had screamed one day, just shy of 8.  The dragon keepers had declared Paarthurnax large enough to ride and Daemon had wanted to fly immediately, wanting to visit Alphonse who had been on his yearly visit home for the harvest.  Nevermind the fact that a saddle still needed to be made and fitted properly.  Helaena had not allowed it.  They had been breaking their fast and Daemon had thrown his pumpkin juice at her in response.  The maids had frozen in horror, not sure what to do, but Aegon had sighed and simply dragged a screaming Daemon from the table by the wrist. 

“I HATE YOU!  Let me go!  I HATE YOU!!” With each yell from Daemon, a curious face turned to look.  Aegon nodded greetings to the stunned passersby, as if nothing was amiss. 

“Yes, yes, you may hate me all you like, but do so from the nursery.”  Aegon had said.  “You are not to leave the area for the rest of today.  Supper will be brought to you.  This will be your punishment for what you have done.  We do not throw things at others, especially our own kin, we use our words.”

Daemon had been sure an injustice had been done to him.  “I’m not stupid!  You won’t let me ride because you HATE ME.  You and aunt Helaena HATE ME!!”

At this, Aegon had issued a vehement denial “We do not hate you and we never will.  We both love you with all our hearts.”

“Then why can I not call you kepa and aunt Helaena muña?”

He still remembered how sad Aegon had looked when he had asked that. It had caught him completely off guard.  Only now as a man did Daemon understand how much it probably tore at his uncle’s heart.  

Stopping right before the library, he saw the doors were wide open, Ser Tommen standing guard right by. Daemon went in to speak with the two people who had raised him.

[xandle]

dialogue goes into quotation marks ( “these things” ) and dialogue statements end with periods. “If someone says something like this,” for example, “then you put a period at the end.”

“Don’t put a comma after statements like this. They’re their own sentences, so a character speaking after this dialogue is a fresh new sentence. But if you have more to say and need to add a paragraph? You break it up and leave the quotation open.

“It’s okay. And make sure to keep your punctuation inside your quotation marks.”

I love you fanfic writers i believe in you

[bardofavon]

not to be controversial bc I know this is like…not in line with shifting opinions on fanfic comment culture but if there’s a glaring typo in my work I will NOT be offended by pointing it out. if ao3 fucks up the formatting…I will also not be offended by having this pointed out…

‘looking forward to the next update’ and ‘I hope you update soon!’ are different vibes than a demand, and should be read in good faith because a reader is finding their way to tell you how much they love it. I will not be mad at this.

‘I don’t usually like this ship but this fic made me feel something’ is also incredibly high praise. I’m not going to get mad at this.

even ‘I love this fic but I’m curious about why you made [x] choice’ is just another way a reader is engaging in and putting thought into your work.

I just feel like a lot of authors take any comment that’s not perfectly articulated glowing praise in the exact manner they’re hoping to receive it in bad faith.

fic engagement has been dropping across the board over the last several years, and yes it’s frustrating but it isn’t as though I can’t see how it happens. comment anxiety can be a real thing. the last thing anyone wants to do is offend an author they love, and that means sometimes people default to silence.

idk where I’m going with this I guess aside from saying unless a comment is outright attacking me I’m never going to get mad at it, and I think a lot of authors should feel the same way. ESPECIALLY TYPOS PLZ GOD POINT OUT MY TYPOS.

[gothamcityneedsme]

theres a fic i like where im literally 28 out of the total of 51 comments on it.  this story is for Me.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Ok so I’m dying to read a snape x reader fic where the reader is pregnant with his baby and he gets all sweet and possessive of her in the bedroom but also like kinda rough in the tender/sensual way only Snape can be 😂 One word: SMUT. I’ve never found a fic like this (If you have PLZ recommend) thanks, love your work!!

My Love, My Everything ~Soft!Severus Snape xFem Pregnant!Wife!Reader

Summary— Read request. Anon Response— Hi hi hi anon!! Thank you thank you for the request! I haven’t written for Severus in a while, but I’m back in my Alan Rickman era so here’s this smutty little fic you requested <3 Hope you Enjoy! ♥️

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, sex while pregnant, eating out, fingering, overstimulation, rough yet tender and gentle sex, fluff, teasing, light taunting, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

The second Severus walked into your shared bedroom, his hands were on you. It started with his hand caressing your back, guiding you to the bed. Then when your legs hit the edge of the bed, his other hand snuck its way to you chin, before his lips connected with yours.

You hummed into the kiss in content. Severus wasted no time in separating your lips with his tongue and exploring your wet cavern. A moan ripped through your throat as his tongue dominated the kiss. His hand moved from your back to your hips, before guiding you to lay back on the bed.

Severus was careful and caring, not daring to harm his wife or his future child. He carefully crawled on top of you, starting to love on every piece of exposed skin you had to offer. His tender touch began to removed all your clothing, until you are completely bare in front of the man you loved.

“So beautiful…” he groaned, as he stood up and his eyes raked over your figure.

Severus then quickly undressed, his eyes never leaving yours. Under his intense gaze, you became flushed and attempted to cover yourself in embarrassment. Severus was quick to cock his brow at you, and consequently pounced on you, grabbing your hands and holding them above your head.

“Don’t hide yourself from me, Darling… You’re so stunning, it’s a crime…” He husked in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You squirmed against his hold, while the man began his naked assault down your body. He left litters of kisses and bites and bruises along your frame, before he reached your swollen belly. Severus then looked up at you with sparkling eyes. He licked his lips and had a wicked smirk. You squirmed even more, as his hands moved to hold your hips down and his mouth prepared to taste you.

“S-Sev p-please…” you whimpered, thrashing back and forth in desperation, all Severus’ teasing having properly riled you up. You stared to tease your nipples for some amount of relief.

Severus didn’t need to be told twice. His hands suddenly held your hips in a vice grip, making your gasp. That would leave a bruise along with the dozens of other ones he’d made tonight… Then you felt his hot breath on your cunt, and a second later, Severus was diving into your previous pussy.

You cried out in pleasure, as the man held nothing back, giving your cunt his all. One of your hands immediately shot to his head of dark curls. His tongue was unrelenting, lapping away at our folds, and quickly diving into your cunt. His thumb drew up to your clit, rubbing tight and swift circles against your bundle of nerves.

“Oh God SEV—!” You cried out, your head being thrown back against the sheets as your eyes screwed shut tight.

It turned so rough and overwhelming so quickly that the fingers teasing your nipples went limp, unable to think or do anything else than take what Severus was giving you. Your hips jolted upward and into his touch in needy desperation.

Severus’ grip on your hips only tightened in response, keeping your hips from effectively suffocating him, as his tongue was so addicting… He groaned into your cunt as he felt your walls clench around his tongue, which only made you wetter.

After his tongue had effectively done its job of getting you dizzy and soaked, he pulled away slightly. Your head shot up and you immediately whined at the man in need.

“Tsk tsk tsk, you know me better than that, Darling…” Severus chuckled, before sliding two of his girthy fingers into your cunt.

“AhHhhHHh bloody helll—UghhhHh…!!” You groan out, your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

Severus couldn’t help the smirk plastered across his face, as his digits fucked your pussy rough and deep, just like you needed. As he did this, Severus leaned forward and began placing kisses upon your swollen belly.

“Look at me, love…” Severus husked.

You struggled to lift your gaze and look at Severus, as his fingers were curling and scissoring your cunt so deep and so good. The man could see your impending high in your eyes, and it made him swell with pride, only spurring him on even more.

“You look so good with my baby inside you, my love…” Severus said in his low, sultry tone.

God that tone… that tone could make you cum alone…

“Mmm Sev…!!!” You squeaked, as his fingers curled inside you, hitting your g-spot over and over again, your hand from your chest swiftly moving to grip the sheets tight.

“What do you need, Darling…? Use your words…” Severus husked.

“Cum!! Make me cum dee GOD please Sevvv…!!” You cried out, your body so on edge and shaking, at the behest of merely two of his fingers.

“Good girl…” Severus hummed, “Cum for me.” He husked, sliding a third finger into your heat and fucking you at a relentless pace.

The coil in the depths of your body snapped as all three of his digits curled against your clit with rough, calculating intention. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, as your body convulsed and the walls of your cunt clenched around Severus’s fingers.

Your couldn’t bear the intense pleasure, your head rolling back against the sheets, your eyes shutting tight, not being able to keep your gaze on your man. But Severus let it go, knowing how sensitive your body was from carrying his child. He merely fucked you through your orgasm, going now at a gentle pace, while tenderly kissing your swollen belly.

After your cunt stopped clenching fervorously and your waves of pleasure began to subside, you were finally able to take a breath. Your walls were still fluttering as Severus pulled his fingers out of you gently. He immediately showered you with praise, telling you how good you were for him.

Severus then made his way up your figure, showering your shaky body with light kisses along the way, before his lips connected with yours once more in light but passionate kiss. You were panting into the kiss and afterward. But you had the biggest smile on your face the entire time.

Severus laid beside you, embracing your frame and not planning on letting go anytime soon, also taking the moment to lick his fingers clean of your juices, making you giggle lightly.

“You’re incorrigible, Sev…” you giggled, swatting him lightly, before pulling the man in for another kiss, “and hot…” you murmured lustfully against his lips.

“Haven’t had enough, have we…?” Severus teased you into the kiss.

You pulled away with a smirk and a certain look on your face.

“Of you?” You quipped, before running your tongue from Severus’ exposed collarbone all the way up his chin and into his mouth,

“Never, Severus…” you husked with shining eye matching his dark, lustful pupils.

~~~

Severus Snape Masterlist

[goldenstring6123]

Hi !!! How r u pooks :3

Ignore this if u haven't played dti but what do you think the L&DS boys' reactions would be to their s/o playing dress to impress and actually raging at it like verbally LMFAO this game seriously has me TWEAKING bro but I can't stop playing it gigi please free my family 💔 (hcs plz)

Thanks for reading O_o

Lnds: Dress to impress chaos

Warning: no warning! GN!READER, crack-fic (?)

Author's notes: DTI has me on a chokehold as well pookie.

Zayne:

Surprisingly, Zayne knows about this because of the children in the pediatric ward. A good number of kids have their tablets with them and play the game; to him, it looked like some regular dress-up game. He didn't think much of it and just warned the children to lessen their screen time.

When he arrived home and was taking his shoes off in the foyer, he could hear you complaining about something. The only coherent sentence he heard was, "The theme is Y-THREE-K, NOT Y-TWO-K!" He wondered what you were talking about and who you were mad at, but when he saw you huddled around the coffee table, fashion magazines sprawled all over, and another gadget displaying fashion catalogs, he knew what was up.

"What are you getting so worked up about?" he asked, sitting next to you and placing down a cup of tea after changing into his clothes. He could see that there were figures walking down the runway.

"I don't get how those ugly layering players win first place!"

He was confused by what you meant. The outfits were suitable, donning the familiar attire of the staff at the hospital, particularly scrubs and white skirts that were too short for the protocol. "What's the theme?"

"A doctor or a nurse," you replied. As the screen turned briefly black, Zayne waited in anticipation. The scene changed, and on the podium was a mermaid with neon green wings and a god-awful dress.

You threw your hands up in frustration and wept on his knees. Zayne was dumbfounded. "I hate this game!" he heard your muffled cries on his knees. He patted your head.

He got used to seeing you so engrossed in the game, but he would never get used to your mood swings: one moment, you're insulting children, and the next moment, you're giggling because you won 1st place.

Zayne bought you a VIP pass because he loved seeing your reaction every time, although he isn't really a fan of spending money on in-game currency. But he loves you too much, so he just keeps that thought to himself.

After seeing you play, he watches the kids play as well, occasionally commenting on their choice of clothing. The nurses were pretty confused by his comments because Zayne never really commented on any outfits, much less in a game.

Xavier:

Xavier knows about the game and has tried it once, not getting the premise of it at first. He didn't know how to change patterns or delete the clothes he was wearing, so his first catwalk was a bit of a mess. But here's the thing: Xavier won first place, which made him more confused. He screenshot himself on the podium and sent it to you.

When you got home from work, excited to play with him, he was pouting while looking at his phone. You wondered why and saw that another player was walking around in the same exact fit as your partner's character. Xavier said that he kept on trying to change his outfit, but that one person kept doing the same thing. You decided to give that player a piece of your mind on behalf of your boyfriend.

When you're at work, Xavier will send you links to fashion hacks he sees on social media. "This looks cute; let's try it later," and he's more updated when Gigi is working on something. The codes—Xavier knows the codes by heart. He knows them more than he knows the date of your birth.

It was thanks to this game that he likes to go shopping with you to get some inspiration. Surprisingly, he can make a coherent outfit with the ones he sees in the malls.

When you both play together, he likes playing duo, and even if your outfits are unfinished or bad, he gives you 5 stars. But for the rest of the players, he forgets to vote more than half of the time—you don't know if it's on purpose or really by accident.

He would occasionally laugh when players fight against one another, especially if you were involved.

He once bought himself the VIP pass, but his outfits still looked too generic for your liking, but you didn't have the heart to complain. Xavier once lost a bet, and now he has to buy you the pass as well.

He once used his work account to comment on some suggestions on Gigi's Twitter, and kids were confused as to why a hunter was commenting on a kids' game. He deleted it soon after, but he amassed a few hundred followers.

Sylus:

He felt nothing about the game at first and thought of it as nothing more than your form of entertainment. It keeps you busy and out of harm's way, but he never once thought that it would cause a rift in your relationship (he's exaggerating).

Sylus would grow annoyed at how you weren't picking up his calls when you were clearly at home, so he sent Mephisto. The little snitch took a picture of you being so engrossed in your game and sent it back to his boss. Sylus was half disgruntled and 100% dumbfounded when he found out—he was laughing, but he was annoyed. Luke and Kieran were utterly confused.

At midnight, while you worked your way to being a fashion maven, you didn't notice your man sneaking in through the window. Just as you were about to hit pose 11, Sylus yanked your feet and stole your tablet from you.

"No! Give that back!"

"You're not answering my calls because of…this?" He turned to the tablet, which displayed another player's half-decent outfit for the theme "star."

"What calls?" you turned to your phone. '18 missed calls' and your heart sunk to the floor. Shyly, you turned to him, scratching your head. "Oops?"

He sat down on the edge of your bed. "Why are you so engrossed in a dressing game? Why not dress yourself with all the clothes I gave you?" He nudged to the mountain of paper bags in the corner of your room—branded ones, too.

"Because it's fun?" You took the tablet from him and showed him on screen how your outfit won first place. "See? I like winning—one more round, and let's go on a night ride."

He paused, patiently waiting for a minute while you scrolled around the game lobby. He came to a decision. "No. Screen time is over. You've neglected me for far too long." He yanked the tablet away from you using his evol, then pinned you down to the bed, burying his nose in between your breasts.

Although Sylus claims he's not interested in playing the game with you, he did, in fact, join the game secretly to spy on you. He was mildly infuriated with the little amount of selection of menswear and the ridiculous look on the men's faces, so he still really doesn't understand the hype, but he'll be generous enough to give you a three or four-star once in a while.

Once, he joined your server, and the theme was the bad guy. You dressed up as a white-haired, red-eyed man with over-chiseled cheekbones. A moment later, Sylus bombarded you with a screenshot of the game. "I do not look like that. Delete it."

As much as he says he doesn't like the game, Gigi made an update and added some dark reddish aura in-game, as well as a crow perched on the hand of the model. The bird looked awfully close to Mephisto. You confronted Sylus about this, and he denied having any involvement in it.

Whenever you sleep in Sylus' home, he would wake up to the goddamn beat of the game at 3 am, and out of frustration, he would use his EVOL to get the device away from you and place it on the highest shelf in the room. Then he'd hold you down.

Rafayel:

Rafayel introduced you to the game, but after a few times of playing it, it didn't take long for him to get banned for cyberbullying—he wasn't bullying, actually; he was just stating facts, and the other players couldn't take it, and so they reported him. He fights anyone, and he comments a lot in the game, earning him the title of a "yapper."

"You guys don't have taste. How did that thing win first place?" That thing refers to a pretty decent outfit but doesn't match the theme.

"You don't look good either, hun," said the person in first place.

"You don't get to say that when your hair looks like puke, darling." He rage-chattered, saying everything he was typing out loud.

You were cackling beside your boyfriend, witnessing him rage while you were just perched on top of the 3rd place, happy you even got to go up there against all the fashionistas.

"Kids really have the gall to compete and insult adults with taste."

"Raf, you do understand that they're adults as well, right?"

"No, they're not. They're children. This is a kids' game."

You stared at him intently. He stared back, thinking.

"Then I don't need to hold back from insulting them." he placed his hand on the keyboard.

Rafayel's fits are absolutely top-tier. He always wins first place. The layering, the color combination, the form, and the aesthetic are all on point and top-tier. He doesn't reference, and the only time he does is when the theme requires it.

This man doesn't do duos with you because he wants the podium to himself. He once did a duo with you, and it broke his winning streak. You had a small argument about it, but you just gave in, eager to make him lose. Newsflash: You failed miserably.

He secretly joins a farming server every once in a while. Rafayel unknowingly joined the same server as you, and when you asked about it, he denied it, saying only people with bad tastes need to farm for stars. You sent him a screenshot. He didn't talk to you for a day.

He files a lot of complaints and goes on Twitter about how buggy the game is and how bad the texture is. He didn't know that his graphics were on low.

Rafayel is very active in the community and contributes to it during his free time. He uses an alternate account to post suggestions when Gigi opens a post about it. A lot of people actually agree with Rafayel's complaints and suggestions.

Rafayel once freaked out when he accidentally went inside the meat room and told you about it, but when he showed you, it was already catwalk time. You pretended you didn't believe him and tried to pretend to listen when he was searching for that passable wall. You laughed at him and brushed him off, pretending that you didn't believe him.

This began the downward spiral to Lana's lore. He kept on sending you reels about it—and speculations and theories. He even once invited you to that scary horror game, but he quit because it was too creepy and full of 'negative energy.'

Author footnotes: If I'm taking a break while writing, I would be playing dress to impress and I would be fighting children (i'm not joking, I once made a player and her friends leave the server)

Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost |

[just-some-random-blogger]

hello!! i loved your cregan x martell!reader work sm 😭😭 could you plz bless us with another one? i'm so curious about this pairing, was their marriage arranged or a love match? does little rickon exist in this au? what abt the war?

i'd be delighted to read more about them, if you're willing to write, of course :) thank you in advance!! i adore your writing <3

Heat

You take your husband to Dorne for your sister's wedding. He fairs horribly in the heat.

Cregan Stark x Martell!Reader | 600< | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, dramatic!cregan, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: HI NONNIE! this was my firs req since i closed em so YAY US (and it took me so long to write it lmao). it's just a lil blurb but i hope you like it! also this is the fic in question.

Tagging: @sloanexx

The Lord of Winterfell was leading the travelling party. We were deep in Dorne; Sunspear was already within view. And although the fearsome wolf of the North was not one you could easily defeat, he was steadily losing to the dessert sun.

"Cregan," I call out from my horse beside him, "you will get sun burnt if you keep your back bare."

The Warden of the North had one by one removed the clothes off his back. His face, chest, and back was flush and irritated in more ways than one as he looked at me, "and if I put a shirt on," his brows furrow, "I will faint because of the heat."

With a groan, I remove the silk shawl off my shoulders and I steer my horse closer to his. I place the the fabric on his burning flesh, immediately making him whimper. He shrug it off, "I'm sweaty."

"Cregan," I glare and grab my shawl before it drops, "you're overheating."

He rides faster.

"Cregan," I follow, "come here."

He gallops off as quickly as possible, running straight towards the gates of Sunspear. I am taken aback by his sudden fleeing. I look over to the rest of the party, all of which were Northerners equally melting in the heat, and decide to gallop into Sunspear as well for their sake.

Upon my arrival, I was greeted by many people, all of which expressed their delight to see me again. I greet them with glee as I dismount. I instruct the servants to attend to the men and give them something to cool off with.

"Sister!"

"Sister," I call back with a smile.

My younger sister, Calliope, embraces me and kisses my cheeks. I return her affection and brush her hair behind her ear, "you have grown more radiant since last I saw you, my love. Your groom is blessed to have you."

She giggles, "as is yours" she looks me up and down, "is this a glow of an expecting mother?"

"If it be the will of the gods," I smile and link arms with her, "Lord Stark has been most ardent in his duties."

We share a laugh.

Calliope leans in and raises a brow, "you should have brought a bit of snow with you, sister. I think your wolf has jumped into garden fountain."

"He what?"

My sister and I run off to the gardens, and sure enough, there laid the hulking man, body barely even submerged into the water.

"Cregan!" I snap, releasing my sister to fish out my husband, "you giant oaf!"

The man slowly sits up. He wipes water away from his face and smiles, "hello, beautiful wife."

"Get out of the fountain."

He spits out water.

"There are many pools in Sunspear where you actually fit," I reach a hand out.

He crawls over and takes my hand, only to pull me closer and kiss me. His dripping hand comes to my cheek. I whimper. He pulls away and smiles, "will you be joining me?"

I press my lips into a line, "get out of the pool, Stark."

The water sloshes as he gets on his knees and climbs out, "yes, Stark."

Water spills and drips onto the floor as Cregan stands next to me. My sister, Calliope, giggles from behind me. The man looks at her as she speaks, "it might do you well to know the nights at Dorne are cooler, my lord."

I make a face and pull my skirt away when it begins to absorb the pooling fountain water. Cregan notices this and grabs me by the waist, pulling me tightly against him.

"Cregan!"

He smirks and kisses my neck. I glare at him and he smirks at my sister, "I should hope so. My lady keeps me warm at night."

[reiderwriter]

Smutty part two of the hand to hand combat fic plz

A/N: Your wish is my command! I think a lot of people were frustrated at where I left the first part off lol, so here's a special treat for everyone who lowkey hated me after that lmao. Enjoy! 18+ MINORS DNI Also it is a crime that there aren't more gifs of Spencer wet, I have used most of them ㅠㅠ

You can read the first part here!

Warnings: shower sex, fingering, suggestive washing idk, Intercrural sex (he fucks the gap between her thighs for a while), no contraception, PinV sex, slight cum play? I guess?

You can also find my masterlist here, and if you enjoy my 18+ works, I'm partaking in kinktober, and you can find out about all of my plans here :]

As you washed off the day's sweat, standing in the shower rooms of the FBI gym, you cursed the gods above for making you such a coward. 

If you'd been bolder during your sparring session with Spencer, you could've ended the day in a much more pleasurable way, or you'd at least have the memory of whatever you'd do to aid your fantasies. You thought back to your humbling defeats of earlier that day. You really thought you could get the upper hand on Reid in at least one of your rounds, but no. He’d got the jump on you all three times, leaving you squirming under his touch on the mat as he enjoyed his defeats. 

The second-round had been close, having the initial upper-hand being in the assailant role, but he’d used his extra height to throw you off balance, pinning you to the ground from behind, his hands trapping yours against your lower back. You’d blushed at the compromising position, your ass raised suggestively, his bodyweight pushed on top of yours, crotch to your centre, as you tried stay calm despite the very thin materials of both of your work out gears that separated you. 

Not that you were complaining about the extra contact, but you weren’t beneath using it as an excuse for your loss. In your final round, he’d let you think you hand the upper hand for a second, teasing you about enjoying the view from your place above him, straddling his waist as you pinned him down. By that point, you were beyond horny, reaching near orgasmic levers of desperation to feel him push up into you, and he’d let you enjoy the feeling of your core grinding into him for a few minutes. Just long enough that no one else would notice that your movements weren’t simply struggles to keep him pinned. Then, he’d gone and ruined it by thrusting his hips up quickly and using the momentum and your shock to buck you off to the side, returning you to your earlier pinned pose. Despite the losses, you couldn’t really find much else to complain about other than the fact that you hadn’t kissed him right then and there, having not thrown caution to the wind. 

With each pulse of water from the shower head, you tried to clear your head, but he'd consumed your thoughts. You didn't think you wanted him this badly, but apparently one touch was all it took for you to become aware of the desire you had for him. You let your own hands trail between your legs as you decided to deal with your bodies pent up frustrations.

The door to the bathroom opened, though, just when you were about to get going and you had to pull your hand away as you called out to your new friend. 

"Pen? That you? God I'm so fucking sweaty from that work out." You laughed a little as you greeted her, but the other person didn't make any other noises, stopping dead in their tracks. 

"Y/N?" Somehow your blood ran cold as your body heated up. 

"Spencer? What are you…?" You whipped your head around to get a look at him over the glass shower stall door, pulling your hands over your chest, reflexively. 

"Morgan said the men's showers were broken, and he was heading home to shower. But I can't sit for that long on the subway without getting rid of all this sweat. He said there'd be no one else in here since we stayed so late…. I can… I can leave if you need me to?" 

"No! No, it's okay, it's not like we're using the same shower or anything, and I don't want you to feel so… Uncomfortable." 

He thanked you, then slipped into a stall a three away from your own, as you tried your best not to watch the flex of his arms as he firmly gripped his towel around himself. 

Turning back to your own shower, you decided you needed to speed it up, actually get on with it so you could escape this awkward, tempting situation. You were almost sure this was some kind of divine punishment. You lathered up your hair and began to massage your head when the water suddenly ran so cold it burned. 

"Ah, shit," you whimpered out as you ran from the water as quickly as possible. 

"Um, Spencer?" 

"Y-Yeah," he responded, having heard your moans and immediately perked his head up. 

"Your shower stall, it's the second from the door right?" 

"Yeah, why?" 

"Shit, I should've mentioned something," you ran a hand through your hair as you turned off your shower. "That one doesn't work too well, when you use hot water in that one for some reason, it makes the rest of these showers run cold for the rest of the day." 

"Oh, I'm sorry Y/N, I didn't realise." 

"No, it's good, I guess it's just cold shower time for me now." You sighed in a huff of annoyance, and turned your shower back on. 

"Do you… Do you want to come and use this one? My water's still hot and the cold water really won't be good for relaxing your muscles after all that work." 

"With you?" Your eyes meet his over the walls of your shower stall and you try not to sound too eager. Maybe this could be your chance after being such an idiot earlier. 

"Yeah, I guess. I still need to, you know, wash up?" 

You nodded at him then, and began collecting your things, your towels in your hands covering your sensitive areas, but only just as you stepped into his space.

He pressed himself against one of the walls as you entered, doing his best to cover his cock with his hands, but failing pretty miserably. You shot a single look down there, hoping he didn't notice. He was hard, and God did you want to help him out. 

But unsure of how to broach the topic, you ignored it and put your things down, before turning in to face the shower. A little sign of contentment fell over you as you felt the heat against your skin again, body relaxing as you began washing off your hair once again. 

You felt him move until he was a shadow at your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. 

"Y/N, let me help you clean your back. I don't want you to flare up that arm injury, and you're not reaching that well." 

"What?" Ill advisedly, you turn to face him. His eyes trail over your body, landing on the swell of your chest as you stand only millimeters from touching. Gently dragging his eyes back up, he repeats his plea, and turns you around, grabbing your body wash.

"Trust me, I'll help." But you know this isn't going to do any good easing the tension in your body, his hands on you being as distracting as they were. You almost jusmo a little when his bare hands finally come down on your waist. 

"S-Spencer I have a loofah!" You almost moan out as he begins to rub circles into your skin with his fingers spread. He's closer now, and with his hands out of the way. You can feel his cock, bare against your ass, twitching as you realise he's getting a lot of pleasure out of this. 

"Do you know how much bacteria can live on one of those things? You wanted to get clean, right?" It's all you can do not to buck back into him as he releases the words, hands coming up to your shoulders as he works his strength into your skin. His hands feel so good against you, that you barely notice them slipping around your front, as he begins to work on the plains of your stomach as well.

You throw your head back against his chest in pleasure as he slips higher and higher, hands eventually cupping your breasts as he slowly lathers them up, taking his time to feel every single inch of your skin. You whimper in your pleasure, and you hear his heavy breathing similarly pick up. 

"Spencer…" You don't know what your words are asking, begging for, but it's clear he does, as his hands spread. One goes up to your neck, wrapping around you tightly as you gasp out a breath, the other washing hanging in the air as he rids it of soap before trailing down between your legs. 

His fingers find your clit and you whimper. 

"That's it baby, I'm just gonna help you get clean, okay? Gonna make you feel good, too." You nod at his words, giving him the silent confirmation he needs to press his cock in between your thighs and start rubbing it up against you, not yet pushing it in. You're pushing your ass back into him now as he starts to fuck the folds of your sweet cunt, writhing in pleasure everytime his tip catches on your hole, pleasure rolling off your tongue in waves. 

His hand on your neck keeps you from gaining volume, keeping you grounded as he gets you close to that euphoric bliss. You're desperate to actually feel him inside you though, squirming in the hopes that one of his thrusts will accidentally land on target. 

"Spencer, please…" You know what you want now, and you're desperate for him to listen, as you turn your head to the side, grabbing the back of his own as you pull him down for a sloppy kiss. His hips still as he falls into the kiss, tongue dragging over your lips and begging for entrance. His hand stays on your clit though, and within a few more rubs you feel yourself twitch in his arms, fully held up by his hand on your neck. 

"Spencer, please, need you…" 

"Are you sure, Y/N? This is still a public bathroom, and I don't want you to think you have to do anything just bec-" You cut him off with another kiss, and that's all he needs before he's pressing you back into the shower stall, wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing his cock inside of you. 

You pulled his lips down to yours again and again, desperate to taste him, shower abandoned behind you. His pace picked up and soon he was slamming into you, with the full force of his body, the weight that had earlier been used to pin you down now being used to pleasure you to the fullest. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, letting his eyes fall to the place where your two bodies met, his grunts filling the space as you tried your best to bite your tongue. You knew that if you let yourself be as loud as you could've been in that moment, someone would definitely notice. 

"Just like that, Spencer, fuck, just like that." Your hips bucked wildly against his as he pulled your other leg up and around him, holding you fully off the ground as he continued his movements. 

You gripped his back, letting your nails find any purchase they could, dragging scratches down his skin, marking him as yours. You didn't feel so bad about the pain you must've been dealing him though, not when his hands were leaving red handprints on your hips from his tight grip, the sharp discomfort only fuelling your passion. 

"Spence, I'm… Fuck I'm close." Your head slumped into his neck. 

"Cum for my, Y/N, need to feel you clench around my cock." He grunted, and somehow your body listened to his demands perfectly, spilling over the edge with his next thrust. 

He moaned out quickly, lowering your legs to the floor, still holding you up, as he pulled out and stroked his cock a few more times. His white release painted both of your stomachs with his climax, and you fell against each other in your bliss, trying to both gain back your normal heart rate and calm your breath. 

"Spencer, I think we need to get back in the shower," you smiled up at him, and dragged him back over to it as he flushed, not finding the words needed to apologise for his mess. 

You pulled him in for a kiss under the water and mentally thanked Morgan for putting you through hell that day. He pulled away from you to attempt to talk, but you didn't want to let him. 

"You know," he started, but you tried to shut him up again, wanting desperately to feel his lips right back on yours. 

"Y/N, please," he laughed pulling your head away from him as you whined out childishly. 

"You know, Morgan was lying about us needing to do this physical thing." Your eyes bulged at the confession, as you tried to stammer out a reply. 

"What? I… What?" 

"He pulled the same act a year or so ago, too. Y/N, Penelope is never in the field, she doesn't have to do physical training, and we both have enough case hours to cover any further requirements." 

"So he… ThatThat son of a bitch." You muttered angrily to yourself as he ran a hand through your still damp hair, smiling down on you peacefully. 

"Wait, Spencer… If you knew that he was making this whole thing up, why did you go along with it?" 

"Needed an excuse." He pulled you in for another kiss, this one slow and languid, as you felt him twitch to life again at your thigh. 

"An excuse for what?" You moaned out as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving behind a trail of love bites you were sure would bloom into purple bruises, just another decoration for your neck alongside his handprint. 

"An excuse to touch you. You're very good at following professional boundaries, you know?" You laughed at him once more and let him pull you close into him again. It took you an extra hour to shower that day, but it was worth every second. 

[whoxeology]

HI HII hope ur having an amazing day!! But I can I request Percy x reader (gn if possible plz:3) where Percy n reader get caught by Sally (after they rescue her😞) cuddling n kissing BUT Sally didn't know they were in a relationship (maybe they were just couldn't tell her since they didn't know when or couldn't since they just rescued her??). ITS OK IF U CANT/DONT WANT TO!! plz take care of urself n remember to drink water ^.^tysm!!

A/N: PLEASE YOU ARE LITERALLY SO SWEET. THIS IS SO EXCITING I LOVE GETTING REQUESTS. This is my first actual blurb so please let me know what y'all think.

⛧☾༺♰Red Handed♰༻☽⛧

PAIRING: Percy Jackson x Reader

WARNINGS: Established Relationship, cursing, GN Reader, Possible spoilers for TLT, Kissing, OOC Percy.

W.C: 0.8K

A/N: I have not read the books only knowledge I have of Percy is from the movies, TV show, and multiple fics I have read. While writing this I have Logan Lerman Percy Jackson in mind. With that being said this is purely for fun. You are more than welcome to disagree and leave feedback.

It had been a hell of a past few hours. In less than 24 hours you, Percy, Grover, and Annabeth had managed to go to the underworld and save Sally, briefly fought Luke before Percy ultimately beat his ass, returned the lightning bolt to Zeus, and got Grover back from the underworld. 

"My god my back is killing me" You groaned as you stretched yourself out on Percy's bed. You had gotten out of a much-needed shower, the scalding hot water seeming to work miracles on your bruised skin. You smelled faintly of Vanilla and were wearing an old AC/DC tee shirt and shorts that Percy had lent you. 

Saying you were exhausted was an understatement. You missed your friends, your cabin mates, and most importantly sleep. Considering you’d been barely managing to catch 40 minutes of sleep in the past few days you’d take anything. 

"I wonder why's that," Percy said sarcastically as he slid himself up behind you. He placed his head into the crook of your neck inhaling your scent. "God you smell good," He said as his hands found their way under your shirt and onto your waist. His cold hands meet your hot skin making you shiver. 

Percy missed his mom more than shown. You wouldn’t blame him, you know if you got your mom back you’d be feeling the same as him, if not worse. Annabeth and Grover had gone back to camp while you and Percy decided to stay with his mom for the night. You would have gone back to camp with Grover and Annabeth but Percy insisted on you staying with him. 

"Can't say the same for you," You say jokingly. Percy's cold hands were poking around your waist with intent making you giggle and squirm when he poked a sensitive spot below your ribs. 

"Hey I showered," he said defensively as his poking turned into tickling. His fingers were relentless "Take it back." He said into your neck as you laughed loudly trying to get away. 

"Percy!" You whisper shouted trying to pry his hands away from your waist. You didn't want Sally to hear and get the wrong impression about you. 

"Take it back love or else I won't stop," He whispered into your ear as he pinned your wrist down with one hand. His other becoming harsher tickling your sides as if there was no tomorrow. 

"OKAY, OKAY FINE I"M SORRY, YOU SMELL AMAZING," You practically shouted as you grasped at his hands. If he kept it up you’d probably piss your pants. Finally, after what seemed like years he stopped tickling you resting his hands back on your waist. He shoved his head back into your neck.

"Percy," you said in a warning tone. He had started to kiss right below your ear. 

"Hmm?," He hummed back. The vibration tickles against your neck right below your jaw. His hands around your waist tightened, pulling your back further onto him. 

“Percy,” you whine breathlessly. Your hands reach behind you to tug on his hair. He was being an ass, placing slow kisses on the collar of your neck.  

“Who smells amaz- OH MY GOD," 

The sound of Percy's door opening was all you heard before you were on the ground. Your ass hurts from the sudden impact. 

"Oh my god sweetie are you okay," Sally said rushing to your side. Her hands grabbed yours as she pulled you off the ground. 

"Oh my god babe I'm sorry I panicked," Percy said as he grabbed your waist and pulled you back onto the bed. 

"Im fine it's okay really," You laughed as you sat on the bed leaning against Percy finding the whole situation funny. Percy was sitting on his bed awkwardly with one hand around your waist and the other rubbing the back of his neck, his face bright red while Sally's eyes were looking at him expecting answers. 

"Babe? When did this happen," Sally questioned as she leaned against the wall. She didn't look upset but rather amused. "Since a little after I got to camp," Percy said looking at his mom. He stopped rubbing his neck and instead started playing with your fingers instead. 

“Okay cool, look I get it, I understand you’re young I was young one too and I will admit I had my fair share of fun -” She was cut off by a loud groan from Percy. He threw himself back into his bed. His black hair hit his light blue pillow. 

“Oh my god, Mom please stop” He mumbled his entire face red again. You can hear the embarrassment in his voice. 

“Okay okay I’ll leave,” she said as she put her hands up with a cheeky smile on her face. “This door stays open though,” she said as she pointed at Percy, suddenly serious. 

“MOMMMMM.”

A/N: How do yall feel about the color-coded diolauge? would yall prefer it like this or as regular text?

[wonustars]

𖠗 𓂃 。˚ ⋆𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘢𝘰, 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘉𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘗𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘳

pairings: xu minghao x reader genre: one night stand, s2l (?), smut (mdni), drabble, *not proof read* word count: 1.3k words synopsys: on a whim, your friends dare you to get nipple piercings done at minghao's tattoo and piercing shop. inspired by: this minghao lip piercing vid

tags: bodypiercer/tattooartist!mingaho, touchstarved!reader, afab!reader, minghao has a lip and tongue piercing. smut tags/ warnings : nipple play, unprotected sex (plz do not do this w strangers lol), cream pie, fingering, pet names (sweetheart, baby), unrealistic portrayals of getting your nipples pierced.

likes, comments, reblogs are appreciated/encouraged ^-^

note: ...hi lol the amount of times i saw that video of mingaho... like i can't not just post a short fic about him being the person to do your first body piercing (?) djflajdfhkjahk . this is my first time posting something so short lol. this is just a lil something so i could take a small break from writing my scoups fic :>. lmk what u think!!! enjoy heeheh &lt;;3

“You’re going to have to take off your shirt.” Minghao looks at you, a little unimpressed.

With doe eyes, you nod hesitantly. Laying down on the sterilized but soft piercing bed, your palms begin to sweat. The thought of the needles going through your sensitive nipples, twice, is causing you to second guess your friends’ dare. The adrenaline rush catching up with you, making you believe that you should’ve just asked for another option. Anything but this…, you chanted in your head.

Minghao puts his gloves on, glancing back at you to see what state you’re in, concluding that you’re at the stage of regret.

He prepares all his piercing instruments on a tray beside where you lay. As he takes his seat on the chair your pulse starts to pick up again. Thanking god that the tattoo shop had private rooms for piercings.

“Uh Miss. Your shirt?” He asks again, the needle now in his hands.

“Oh. Oh! Right sorry.” You chuckle uncomfortably, lifting up your baby tee. Your nipples now on full display for a complete stranger. An attractive stranger at that.

“You know you don’t have to do this.” He says nonchalantly as he tweaks your nipples. It causes your breath to hitch, the feeling his fingers on twisting you. You know it’s not in a sexual manner, but you feel a buzz rushing down to your core.

You can’t help but notice the way his tugs at his lip piercing, his tongue occasionally poking out of his mouth, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his tongue piercing.

“I-it’s too late now.” You stutter. Your answer comes out almost in a breathy moan but you quickly cover it up with a cough.

“Hm. Not really. I can see how scared you are.” Minghao shrugs.

He notices the way your thighs squeeze together. He smirks inwardly, the fact that you’re getting turned on during a piercing is intriguing to him.

“Well I can’t just back out now.” You whine, Minghao continues to prod at your nipples. Trying to find the perfect place to strike the needle through. He finally picks up on the effect he has on you.

“You’re quite a dirty girl aren’t you?” He chuckles, staring into your eyes.

You freeze at his words, the seriousness in his gaze indicating he isn’t joking around.

“W-what the fuck? Why would you even say that?”

“Because I know that pussy of yours is dripping right now.” He smirks.

You’re utterly baffled, your mouth opening and closing but you can’t seem to answer him. He isn’t even wrong, you’re so turned on just from him playing with your nipples.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about” You huff, the blush on your cheeks running down to your neck.

You do know though, because you can feel your panties begin to stick to your pussy lips.

Minghao puts down his piercing instruments and takes off his gloves, standing up from his chair to tower over your laying body. His hand trailing up your inner thigh, it surprises you enough that you let out a soft whimper. Minghao only smirks at your reaction.

He isn’t the type to fuck a client, but the way your doe eyes looked at him as he tried to find the sweet spot on your sensitive buds turned him on. He knew right at that moment that he was going to pierce you in more than one place, except the second time wasn’t going to be with a needle.

As his long fingers ascend up your thigh, he finally reaches the heat between your legs. His movements causing your skirt to hike up your body.

“Naughty naughty girl…” He mutters as he feels for the dampness on your underwear.

If he weren’t so damn hot, you really wouldn’t be feeling this way. But it was something about his dark hair and the way his tongue played with his lip piercing, it was hypnotizing to say the least.

“Hmmph please,” You let out a wanton sigh, your eyebrows scrunching.

His fingers rub your throbbing clit through the fabric of your underwear. His movements precise due to his years of experience tattooing and piercing people.

“What do you want sweetheart?” He coos.

Minghaos fingers move your panties to the side, letting the pads of fingers glide against your cunt. Rubbing circles on your puffed bud, he begins to kiss up your exposed upper half. His wet kisses and lip piercing leaving a hot and cold tingling against your searing skin.

“Y-your fingers. Please.” You beg him, gripping onto the forearm that’s playing with your sopping core.

He doesn’t say anything more. Giving into your request, he places two fingers into your fluttering hole. You moan loudly, feeling the sensation of his long digits filling you.

“You’re fucking soaking baby” He groans, imagining how tight you’re going to feel on his cock.

Minghao cant wait. He wants to know what it feels like to be inside you.

Pulling down his pants and boxers, he frees his hard length. Sighing at how unrestricted he is.

You lift your back off the piercing bed, leaning back with your arms supporting you. You create space for him, spreading your legs to let Minghao slip between them. Your panties stay pushed to the side, skirt hiked around your hips, and your shirt pulled up past your heavy breasts.

Minghao takes you in, seeing how sexy you look exposed for him.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” He demands, voice unwavering. It sends a shiver up your spine, loving how dominant he is.

“Want your cock please.” You whine, spreading your legs further.

He shakes his head and laughs softly, moving closer to fill in the space between you two. His lips touching yours, surprisingly soft. His tongue enters your mouth quickly, and your whimper at how his tongue piercing feels against your wet mouth.

You wrap your hands around his neck, legs around his waist. He long member poking at your entrance, teasing you. It bumps against your clit slightly, so much so that you being to lose patience.

Taking matters into your own hands, you grab his dick, pumping it a few times before leading it into your entrance. Minghao follows your actions, moving his hips forward to finally sheath himself in your warmth.

You both moan at the sudden intrustion, your mouths open, tongues playing with each other as he begins to pump himself in you.

A salacious moan leaves your lips, you throw your head back as his long hardness fill you completely, bumping into your cervix ever so slightly.

Minghao grips on your thighs harshly, completely feeling the ridges of your hot pussy. You’re completely sucking him in and he can’t get enough. The noise of your wet cunt being fucked by him is sending him closer to his orgasm by the second. he can’t help but move faster, just to hear the way his skin slaps against yours.

He only speeds up as time passes, causing your juices to leak onto the leather beneath you. Minghao dares to look down between you two, seeing the way his thick cock is splitting you open.

“F-fuck! ‘M gonna come” You exclaim, gripping onto his biceps.

“Come for me baby.” He mutters, thrusting in and out of you like no tomorrow.

You finally let go the second he takes one of his hand to rub your clit, tipping you over the edge with a stroke of his thumb. Your pussy clenches hard against him, sending him into his own release.

“Wanna cream you baby” He says in pants, you can only nod, already feeling over stimulated.

He takes that as permission to release his hot load into you.

Still continuing to rut his hips into yours, he rides out his high. The sight of his seed spilling past your lips and forming a white ring on his cock is enough to make him hard again.

To your dismay he pulls out, grabbing a paper towel to wipe his release off your thighs.

“So how about that piercing?” You ask with a shy smile, chest still heaving up and down from your previous ministrations.

© wonustars

𖠗 𓂃 。˚ ⋆

general taglist: @christinewithluv @soonyoonswoo

a/n: thank you for reading! if there’s any typos/mistakes/missing tags lmk! likes, comments, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated. have a question, thought, or request? leave it in my ask box. mwah &lt;;3

- anna!!